Love At First Bite
by coolconfusion
Summary: Alexander is a dark, trouble young vampire, and Raven an angry, teenage girl. Instead of them meeting sweetly and falling in love at first sight, it's love at first bite. Alexander turns Raven, and she's forced to adjust to her new world. AxR
1. Bloodlust

**Vampire Kisses:**_ Love At First Bite_

_Chapter One _- _Bloodlust_

Have you ever met your true love?

Are you together, or apart?

Is he the same as you?

Or are you opposites attract?

Was it love at first sight?

Or love at first

**_bite_.**

_What if Alexander was a dark, trouble young vampire, and Raven an angry, teenage girl? What if instead of them meeting sweetly and falling in love at first sight, it was love at first bite? Alexander bites Raven when she's in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Upon seeing how beautiful she is, and feeling remorseful, Alexander carries her back to the mansion and tends to her. Sparks fly as Raven settles into her new lifestyle. RxA  
_

_

* * *

_**AN: Although not a _huge _fan of VK, I quite like the story (but it's not exactly amazingly written, sorry Ellen!) and the characters so I thought I'd try my own spin on things, since I came up with this idea. Basically, they're quite OC, but they're quite different in general as characters, it's almost like one way the VK universe could have turned out. I hope you like it and review, _please_! I may or may not keep it up if I don't get many people interested in it. ALSO, the way vampires are changed - exactly - is unspecified in the book so I just had to make it up, kind of. It's a bit sketchy, but I think it's not too bad, on a whole.  
**

**Don't think there's much else to say, except I'd loooove you for reading and reviewing!!!! (Hint, hint!!)**

**

* * *

  
**

It was sheer purgatory being stuck in this mansion. A gaudy prison of creaky floorboards, worn down wallpaper and bats. The bats he didn't mind, in fact they made a great model to paint, but it wasn't the sort of place he was used to staying in. Back in Romania, he'd been at the height of his social curve, he'd went to lavish parties everyday, dated the most beautiful girls, had the craziest friends. But he'd still felt out of place, still felt as if something was missing. He'd been born into that glamorous world, part of the ancient blood-line of the Sterling's – and yet, he never felt like he _belonged_. There was always something missing, a thirst that blood and parties could never quell. It always seemed like there was something _more_, he could almost taste it – cool and metallic, sweeter than anything, it felt like it was a something more that he could never reach. Whatever it was. Alexander roamed his mansion by night, painting and playing maudlin music, hoping that the pounding guitars and thrashing drums would make some of his edgy thoughts flicker away. By day, he slept in his coffin, black and sleek, dreaming of a world he dearly missed and wished to return to. When his parents had told him he was being sent away to this small town, the personification of the word 'dull', he'd been distraught. He'd stayed up all day, moping and tossing in his coffin, unable to settle, by night he'd spent hours scouring the internet, desperate to find out about his new home, or to find some laws that said parents couldn't send there children away to small towns like this one. Of course, his search for fruitless, the town was so small it had no reasonably sized website, or many pictures to look at. All he knew was that his grandmother had built a house here, fleeing to escape persecution. All he knew was that he was being sent to this house, so faraway from his love and his life because he refused to marry Luna. Marrying Luna was never something he wanted, nor agreed to – but since it had been decided all those years ago when it was discovered that Luna was in fact, _mortal – _he'd had no say in it. He very nearly married her, turning her into a vampire on the ancient burial ground, bonding them forever, but he stopped at the last moment, inches from her pulsating neck.

"I can't," he said, clear as anything. "I don't love you. I don't want you." He should have chosen better words, telling someone you don't love them or want them is never easy, or nice. Luna ran from him, tearful and wailing, completely distraught at the idea that the boy she loved, the boy she fantasized about – didn't love her. Jagger, her brother and his best friend, had hated him ever since, especially because it had been decided all those years ago. The Maxwell's had tried to force Alexander's parents into making him agree to turn her, telling them that bad things would happen lest they force Alexander. But they wouldn't, his parents were good, honest people, and they wouldn't force their only son to be bonded to a girl he scarcely liked, let alone love, despite it being sworn all those years ago.

He'd travelled extensively with his parents, but they'd all settled in their homeland of Romania, which he had to be sent away from, to live alone, in some remedial, small town where his grandmother had built a grand house, when her family had been persecuted many years ago. Unhappy as he was in his new house, he supposed it was for the best, but he yearned to be back with his parents, who were now travelling again, without him. Being seventeen and being locked away in your room in a town so tiny it wasn't even on any maps, made him quiver and shake with anger. He was very angry, an angry, bored young man. If he'd been unable to find satisfaction when he was in Romania – the place where his kind thrived and loved – then how would he find it _here_? It seemed impossible.

"Jameson," Alexander called out, grabbing his black coat from the rack. "I'm going out." It was completely black outside, and beautiful, with all the stars and swooping bats. A perfect night.

"Out?" Jameson, his creepy, bald butler asked, Romania accent thick. "Where to, Master Sterling? I can get the car if you-""

"No, not needed Jameson. I can handle myself.," Alexander replied, opening the door and stepping out onto the patio. "It's such an eerily perfect night, great for walking around. I may visit my great grandmother's grave, or take a walk in the woods. I'll decide once I'm out there." Jameson nodded, turning back and walking down to the kitchen. Alexander proceeded to go outside, feeling the welcomed sharp breeze of the wind in his hair, closing his eyes.

He'd been walking for awhile, when he felt it. A fiery sensation in his throat, veins, stomach, he felt thirsty and drained, and he realised suddenly. _Blood_. He was thirsty, and he couldn't remember when he'd last drank. It must have been a few days ago – back in Romania. He'd had bloody stakes since then, but he hadn't had fresh, human blood from a throat for _days_. How unusual, he'd normally have it three times a day, sometimes more often when there was a party going on – it was how they felt intoxicated – taking blood. Drink didn't do anything for them, but blood did many things. It made the blood in his veins sing, made him feel light and heady, kept him full and strong, quelled his thirsts, made him want to sing and dance and _die _because he was this happy. Blood was wonderful. He decided he'd have to find some – any kind – he was that thirsty. Normally he restricted it to young people, the younger the blood the fresher and meatier, he thought, only he knew his friend (or former friend) Jagger, liked older. He said that blood was like wine, it bettered with age and became more flavoursome. Alexander disagreed. He never took too much, or enough to cause any damage. The victim would wake up about an hour after he'd drank, feeling light-headed and wobbly, with no recollection of his deed, otherwise, they'd be fine. _Find someone, anyone_, his throat sang, _I won't be choosy tonight_.

He cut around a corner, the sleepy town near deserted. He had passed barely anyone.

_Try the cemetery_, his throat responded to his doubtful thoughts_, maybe you'll find one of your kind – kind enough to offer a sip . . . _

He doubted it. Not many of his kind were kind enough to offer him anything, let alone a drink of their precious blood. Still, worth a shot, he wasn't having any luck here. He trampled through streets until he saw some grave stones and some mist, masking them, face lighting up into a smile. _Beautiful, just find someone_! He walked through the small, rickety gate, his boots mashing up dead leaves as he walked. There was something beautiful about death, about an end, it was so final, so sudden, a perfect excuse to wear black more often. Not that that was a problem for him, he wore black whatever the occasion. He heard someone muttering something, and his ears perked up, he was sure it was a girl – muttering something under her breath – kicking at leaves. He saw her, sitting beside a grave stone, whispering angry little thoughts, shifting leaves with her combat boots. She didn't have time to do anything else, for he'd flown over the rest of the grave stones, landing beside her in one swift drop. She didn't scream, or spring back, instead she looked at him blankly, blinking her sooty black lashes and cocking an eyebrow to the heavens. She was very beautiful, with black hair, black lipstick, black eye make-up, and an attire of black clothing. She reminded him of his mother, or one of his friends back home, only she was more beautiful. If he hadn't been so thirsty he would have stopped to woo her, wishing to have her for his own.

"What are you, Dracula?" she laughed at him, showing more interest than she'd care to admit. That was all the words that got past her black lips before Alexander had swooped in and plunged two fangs into the veins in her slender, swan-like neck, drinking her in fully, a scream dying at her lips. When he took a drink, the victim was unconscious of it, they felt a little pain – like a pin prick – but they weren't fully aware of what he was doing. Her face had taking on that placid, glassy-eyed look that they all did, mouth falling open just a little, looking like she was in the middle of something wonderful. He noticed desire and lust flashing in her eyes, but he didn't pay those much emotion, it was expected, after all. Taking blood felt wonderful for both the vampire and the victim, even if they were human. When a vampire took blood from a human, that human felt some kind of love for them, almost as if they were having an orgasm from the act. Humans thought drinking blood was a vile, vicious, painful thing, but for a vampire, sharing blood was an act of love and lust, it was their food, their life, their love. Couples performed it after sex, or during. It showed that you loved one another enough to want them inside of you, their blood as your own, in your veins, all around your heart. It showed real love. Of course now-a-days it wasn't exclusively for feeding or for love, it was a party favourite, one that Alexander often partook in. Blood kicked things up a notch and kept the party alive. He was careful not to take too much, but her blood was sweeter than most peoples, utterly delicious, and he found himself taking more than he should have, but he couldn't stop. His mind was telling him _STOP_, but his teeth kept going, drinking her. He had to be careful, as he pulled out his fangs, only to plunge them in the other side of her neck, sipping at more sweet nectar. One more bite and she'd be like him, just one more. He had to STOP. But he didn't, he absent-mindedly moved his lips, biting her a third time, tasting her almost fully. He stopped. Not only had he bitten her three times, but he'd drank so much of her blood. She might not even make the transformation with that much blood missing. He let her limp body go, her eyes closed by now, three visible puncture wounds on her neck. He felt at her neck, a pulse going slowly, she was still alive, she would make it. He let a sigh of relief slip through his lips, but then he stopped, noticing how beautiful she really was. It wasn't just the pale, luminous skin and dark hair, but the curve of her lips, the gentle dip of her nose, the slender, swan-like neck. She was beautiful everywhere and his heart swelled with remorse. What had he done? A girl as beautiful as she warranted consent. He looked at her limp body, lying across the fallen dead leaves and he stopped himself. _Can't leave her here, like this. Pick her up, take her with you. Jameson will care for her. _He felt sticky and dirty, and _wrong_. He shouldn't have done that. He could easily have gotten blood, Jameson would have went to the bank for him if he'd only asked – and he needn't take so much that he took her life. He leaned into her chest, still hearing her heart beating, thrashing in his ears. It would stop soon. In an hour or so her heart wouldn't beat any more, and she'd be like him. A creature of the night. He cried out, angry at himself. She would have a family, a mother, a father, a brother, a sister, a boyfriend, a best friend . . . and he'd taken it all from her. He didn't even know her name! Why hadn't he thought? He was being reckless and crazy, acting more like the hideous creature that humans thought they all were. He gingerly lifted her little, tense body into his arms, soaring over the graves, whirling them both all the way to his house.

"Why?" Alexander growled for the hundredth time, while Jameson patted a cold compress onto the girls head. She was more beautiful in the candle light, her hair rippling with colour – violet and cobalt, shining in the light – her lips pursed upwards, as if in a smile. She was still unconscious, he'd taken too much, he knew it. Her body had felt scarily light when he'd carried her in his arms, gently placing her on the chaise lounge, fingers lingering over her parted lips. He could already feel her canines becoming more pointed, grazing the skin on his fingertips a little. The change was coming, no way to stop it, she'd be like him _soon_. How was he going to explain it? That he got a little hungry and wanted a snack? He shook his head. It wasn't the sort of thing you could explain to anyone. How do you say, 'Hey, sorry, I kinda sucked your blood and caused you to retire to a lifetime of darkness and vampires, but I'm really sorry, I hope we can be friends?' Yeah, he couldn't imagine that being one easy, fluid conversation.

"How's she doing?" he asked Jameson, coming over to her stirring body, the eyelids fluttering. You'd expect that she was just sleeping, instead of undergoing the transformation that would turn her from the vulnerable, timid girl she once was, into the blood-thirsty demon of the night.

"Well," Jameson replied gravely, but then he does everything gravely, so it was nothing new. "She's holding up, all right, I'm confident the change will be complete in a matter of hours."  
"Hours?" Alexander gulped, preparing to give himself a pep talk on how to break the fact that he'd turned her into one of the undead easily. "Ah, very good Jameson," at that moment the bell pealed out and Alexander gulped. Jameson was much calmer, however, handing him the towel and telling him it would probably be a delivery. He went off to answer the door, while Alexander collapsed on a seat near the girl, dangling the slightly damp linen towel over her forehead. He found himself gently stroking her cheeks and along her jawline, fingernails just touching her plump lips. The black lipstick had come off, along with her eye make-up and chalky pale foundation. She looked more vulnerable, and much younger, but glowed even more radiant. He found himself wondering what her name was, annoyed that he'd never stopped to find out. Why hadn't he just stopped himself and talked with her first? He was certain if they'd talked he wouldn't have bitten her, in fact, he was sure of it.

Jameson came back in, carrying a small, silver package, looking pleased with himself. He set it down on the table, pulling it open and producing two smaller black containers. Alexander looked on, confused.

"What are those?" he wondered aloud, watching Jameson carefully stack them, taking out several more.

"For the girl," he gestured to her limp body. "I imagined when she woke she'd be thirsty, or hungry, or whatever it is you get. I wouldn't want her taking a bite out of either of us, so it seemed best to bring in some of your regular dose early . . ." Alexander understood at once. Blood. _Blood_. He had some sent in every month or so, from the blood bank. It was easy to obtain, and it made sense to have some waiting for the girl. She'd awake hungry, Alexander had no doubt of that, and for the first couple of months regular food wouldn't completely satisfy her, until she learnt proper control. It was wise of Jameson to bring in some blood, just in case. They wouldn't know how anyone was supposed to react to the change, everyone reacted differently. But this girl, she looked so fragile and vulnerable, Alexander couldn't imagine her as a bloodthirsty vampire. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight, wishing for the hundredth time that he'd just let her be. He'd taken everything from this girl, it wasn't _fair_. He wouldn't chose this life for himself, why force it upon someone else?

"Ah, good thinking Jameson," he complimented the butler as the girl stirring, making a soft sighing sound. "I didn't think of that."

"Thank you, Alexander," Jameson looked pleased, his Romanian accent thick and more pronounced. "Is there anything you require, or should I just go and prepare dinner?"  
"Dinner would be lovely," he replied, nodding curtly. Jameson smiled and gathered the packets of blood, in his thin arms, walking from the door, shoes clicking along the corridor. Alexander didn't know what to do with himself. He couldn't do anything for the girl, who was now thrashing about, in a deep sleep. He decided the best thing to do was to go off and paint. Whenever his thoughts became weighted and heavy, he painted. It was almost like therapy. If he picked up a brush, applied some paint, and grazed it along a canvas, creating shapes and tones, everything seemed better. His thoughts smoothed themselves out and he found clarity. Painting was his way of coping, the only way he knew how. He'd been painting a lot recently, with the fiasco with the Maxwell's, he'd needed some clarity in his almost constant world of haze. The good thing about painting was that it was solid and constant, it never let you down. Sure, you could make mistakes and botch up a painting, but there was always several chances out there waiting for you. Unlike people, it was relatively easy to work with, and the relationship that you formed was never rocky and aggressive. It was always kind of placid and content, easy, even.

He went to his room, with the bed, swathed in a thick black duvet, purely for show, the main focus of the room. He had a few posters up, mainly of Gothic, punky rock bands that he adored, and a few paintings that he'd drawn of his friends and parents. In his world, photographs weren't an option, so a beautiful, delicate painter like Alexander was much in demand. But his father didn't necessarily take him seriously. He thought it was just a hobby, however good his little oil paintings were, they'd never be good enough for his art dealer father. There was a stereo sitting on the chest of drawers, CDs spilling out around it. He carefully selected a CD, turning the volume up until near full, placing a brand-new, reassuring snow-white canvas on his frame, picking up his pallet, and loading it with gorgeously coloured blobs of paint. Right, that was sorted, now he needed a subject. He mused this, deep frown lines etching into his forehead whilst he thought, the music blaring around him. What could he paint? Not himself. He half-heartedly laughed. He'd only seen himself in the paintings that his parents had had commissioned. He knew he was handsome, he was a Sterling after all, his parents were beautiful looking people, it would defy nature if he wasn't. But he was careful not to be cocky about it. His ex-best friend, Jagger, was more than conscious that he was relatively handsome, to the stage where he was arrogant and far too confident. Alexander had always been a little shy, more sensitive than most, and quite self-conscious. He had confidence, of course, but he never had much confidence in _himself_. He relied on others to do most of the talking for him, whilst he hung back, in the background. He was sure if he wasn't who he was, he'd never have been able to be friends with all the people he was friends with. Certainly not Jagger. Jagger didn't have meek, mouse-like friends. He brought out the confidence in Alexander, purely because they'd known one another from infancy, and there was no point being bumbling and self-conscious around Jagger. Alexander was cool and calm on the surface, almost aloof and uncaring to people that didn't know him, even to some who did. He was respected, one of the rich and popular, a naturally well-liked person. But underneath it all, he wasn't like that at all. He hid behind his coolness, choosing not to show his emotions because he didn't know them himself. It was all just an act, and it was breaking down. He just didn't know how to be the _real him_, without being uncool and strange. To normal people, humans, he would be weird anyway. He knew that he would probably be described as Gothic, someone who was naturally an outcast, a loner. He'd never be that in his world, but this wasn't his world any more. He could never return to his world. He was even more of an outcast there, since he'd stood up Luna and completely wounded Jagger's pride. Jagger must _loathe _him by now, and a small part of Alexander told him that he should be concerned, but he wasn't. Good riddance, he huffed, still trying to work out who he could paint, but drawing up a blank. Normally painting came as easily to him as speaking, but today there was no fluency or ease. He was stilted and confused. He sighed, throwing his paint brush across the room and wiping the paint off the pallet. He shut off the music, mid chord change, feeling angrier than before. His thoughts had turned dark as he thought of Jagger, and he couldn't control them. He grabbed his strewn coat from the floor, pulling the dark leather around him and running frantic hands through his hair.

"I'm going out!" he shrieked to Jameson, angrily. He was angry and he didn't know why.

"Out? Alexander-"

"Yes. Out. Call me if anything happens." He slammed the door behind him, the cool night air welcome to his whirling mind. He knew how badly the walk had ended last time. It ended up with him having an unexpected, unwelcome girl on his couch, rapidly making the change from human to demon of the night. But, he needed this walk, more than he was aware of.

He walked down the path, leaping over the iron-gate with an almost superhuman ease. Well, he was a vampire after all, it did have some perks. He didn't know where he was going, his boots tearing into the uneven ground, a cross expression on his face. This time it wasn't blood he was after, it was answers, which were so much harder to come by.

It was in his hurry to reach an unknown destination that he noticed a small, shy-looking girl, nailing something into a lamp post. She had shiny, long brown hair, a timid, strewn smile, and light eyes emulating sadness. Normally he wouldn't look up at her, just stick to his boots, ignoring her completely, but there was something about the posters she had tucked in the crook of her arm, that were nailed all across the street, that intrigued him. She'd noticed him, biting her lip worriedly, staring at him with a wide-eyed horror. He didn't expect what she did next.

"Hi?" She sounded like she was questioning herself. She paused, chewing on her already badly cut lip, her eyes glassy. "Can you help me, by an chance?"

"Help? You?" he sounded just as unsure as her, as he watched her slowly nod, pale skin darkening slightly.

"Yes. You might know my friend . . ." she stuck a white sheet of paper under his nose, thrusting it into his hands. He perused the document carefully, eyes widening as he recognised the face, smiling brightly at the camera. It was a girl, with long, straight dark hair, wide, chocolate eyes, black lips and black clothes. She looked so happy and alive, he almost didn't make the connection between the girl on his couch and the girl in the picture. He felt himself shudder, trying hard to contain his emotions, for the first time in his life. He couldn't let anything slip, he had to stay cool, something that he'd practised over the years. He was able to feel a range of emotions, without even batting an eyelid.

"I don't think so," he allowed himself to whisper, glancing over the girls details, storing them carefully in his mind. Her name was Raven Madison, aged sixteen, living currently with foster parents. The last detail stunned him a little, he'd imagined a warm, loving family, desperate for her to get back to them. Instead, it appeared that she was a child in care. He wondered what had happened to her real family, and why a girl like her, who looked so happy in the photograph, was sitting alone in a cemetery.

"Are you sure?" the girl looked tired and frustrated. "OK, thanks for your help," she looked like she was about to turn away, and snatch the paper from his hands, but she kept speaking. "If you do see her, my numbers on the sheet, I'm Becky Miller," she looked worriedly at her watch, which was a thin sliver around her wrist. "Oh dear, I'll be late!" she said to no one at all. "Please call me if you see her, or hear anything. I've already contacted the police, but they aren't being helpful. I'm really worried, it's not like her," she bit into her now bleeding lip. Alexander felt the scent waft over to him, causing him to reel back a little. He knew his eyes would be flashing red, it was thankful Becky wasn't looking at his eyes, but rather at the sheet of paper. "Please do call. Thank you for all your help," she marched off, like a woman on a mission, leaving Alexander dumbfounded.

So there was people who cared about her, namely this Becky Miller. He didn't see her foster parents marching around putting up posters, or the police. He felt a wave of sympathy for this Becky Miller. He hoped some time soon he could make it up to her, and reveal that her friend was fine. He just couldn't do it yet, he had to make sure that she was fine first!

Having found out this new information, he found himself walking back the way he'd came, to the mansion, clutching onto the piece of paper as if his life depended on it. Becky Miller was a little way down the road, still gluing posters to lamp posts and gates, biting her lip. She nodded to him as he slipped past her, eyeing him up with confusion. He flat out ignored her, marching onwards, too deep in his thoughts to think about anything else. He had to try and work things out, he just didn't know how. He had to look after this girl, return her to her family, but how could he when she was now a demon of the night? Perhaps she'd have a large blood lust and she'd never be allowed out in society, perhaps they didn't want her, perhaps . . .

He found himself back at his wrought iron gates, still clutching onto the paper. He glanced at the photograph, slightly grainy and out of focus, he noticed a blonde head in the bottom corner, a quarter of an eye, half of a nose and almost all of some lips. It looked like a males features, and he frowned, feeling a wave of some unrecognisable emotion crash over him. He'd never considered this before. What if she'd have a . . . _boyfriend_? Why was this so hard to think? He felt his mind struggle as he hung onto the wrought iron gate, not leaping over it like before, but calmly, tranquilly opening and shutting it. Of course she might have a boyfriend. She was exceedingly beautiful after all, and any normal, ordinary sixteen-year-old normally did. He'd had a several girlfriends before he'd been forced to date Luna . . . Not that he'd ever felt much for them. They were just there, a necessary ingredient in his daily life, but not something he felt too strongly for. But this girl, well she made his heart beat almost uncontrollably, his blood thrashing in his veins, his mind so full of her, it almost left no space for anything else.

He banged his fist against his head, trying to push her right out, but of course it didn't work. Nothing did. It was almost as if she was a tattoo, permanently imprinted onto his mind, his brain, his heart . . . He shook his head. Enough of that. He'd better go and tell Jameson that he'd found out her name, age and that someone was looking for her. He hurried up the path, half gliding, half running, a graceful lope. He pushed open the front door, keeping his jacket on, and walking into the drawing room. There was Jameson, looking deathly pale, eyes rimmed with dark circles, but then he always looked like that, it wasn't any different. The girl was still lying there, in a deep dreamlike state. Wordlessly, Alexander tossed over the sheet of paper, a smile playing on his lips. Jameson smoothed down the corners, taking a long time to read the simple words, face contorting into confusion as he read on.

"Is this her?" he asked the minute he'd finished reading and handed the sheet back to Alexander. "The girl that's missing?"  
"She's not missing, Jameson, she's here," Alexander said a little impatiently, indicating to the girl, face pallid, hair seeming to darken against her pale skin, a striking contrast. "There was a girl . . . Becky Miller. I take her to be a friend of _Raven. _She was looking for her, she though I might know something about her," he sighed, growing weary. "I ought to have told her that I knew something about Raven, but of course, I couldn't maintain my integrity with Raven lying on our couch, slowing turning into a _vampire_!" He cried the world like it was an evil, blasphemous thing, which it was to some people. The way Alexander had been carrying on, it was almost as if he didn't accept who he was, and who his people were. He had to be careful. He couldn't confuse his self-loathing of himself for turning her into a vampire with his feelings for actual vampires. "I mean, we don't know what she'll be like, right? And Becky Miller would certainly phone the police if she found her friend lying, dead to the world, on a strange couch with even stranger people. It'd look very suspicious . . . and, oh who am I kidding? It isn't right that we've got some harmless girl holed up in here! It's all my stupid fault! If I'd only left her alone!" Jameson looked at his master's son with a sinking feeling in his heart. Alexander had been unbelievably stupid for doing such a thing as biting a girl without even thinking straight. He may not be like Alexander, but surely, his blood lust couldn't be so great that it took over his mind completely and stopped all common sense? There was nothing else they could possibly do, except look after the girl in the only way they knew how, in their home. He hoped Alexander could teach her what to do with her new-found vampiric personality, and perhaps, in time, she'd be OK with it. He just hoped she didn't run to the police in fear, and get them locked up. He could only imagine what they'd do to Alexander. They'd find him an odd creature, that's right, a creature, not a person. He'd be experimented on, they'd do everything they could to work out why and how he was a vampire. They'd never stop until Alexander had poured out all his secrets of his world. No. He had a duty to his master, he would protect the boy at all costs. If that meant keeping this girl here for eternity, it would be done. No questions asked. Jameson wouldn't fail.

"Alexander, it's doing no one good you complaining about yourself, is it? You make a mistake, you're doing all you can to fix it. Problem solved-"  
"But it isn't solved!" Alexander cried, shaking his head so hid fringe fell all over his eyes. "Becky Miller is looking for Raven, she's even phoned the police! Raven has family, a foster family, but family! And a friend who's looking for her! Raven-" He was stopped mid sentence by a breezy, beautiful voice saying something in cool, intrigued tones.

"_Raven_? Did you say my name?" Raven had sat up, black hair falling in her eyes, grin wide, from ear to ear. Her face turned from happiness to bemusement to confusion in seconds. "Wait, do I know you?" Alexander gulped. Whoa, this one was going to be difficult to explain. He sighed, opening his mouth to tell her everything she needed to know. No use missing things out. She'd know everything soon enough anyway.

* * *

**Thank you very much for reading!!! You know what to do . . . **

**REVIEW (:  
**


	2. A New Beginning

Vampire Kisses: Love At First Bite

Chapter 2: A New Beginning

_Have you ever met your true love?_

_Are you together, or apart?_

_Is he the same as you?_

_Or are you opposites attract?_

_Was it love at first sight?_

_Or love at first_

_bite._

_

* * *

  
_

**Summary:**_What if Alexander was a dark, trouble young vampire, and Raven an angry, teenage girl? What if instead of them meeting sweetly and falling in love at first sight, it was love at first bite? Alexander bites Raven when she's in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Upon seeing how beautiful she is, and feeling remorseful, Alexander carries her back to the mansion and tends to her. Together, they embark on the all-mighty task of healing one another._

**AN: **_God, this was so difficult to get out! I didn't know where to go, how to write it, numerous things. Then inspiration came and I wrote half a chapter, which dutifully got deleted because life just sucks like that. Anyway, this is just a fic I'll update when I can. It's not a big commitment, it's a shame, because there's been so much interest in this story – well, after _Just Realise _is completed (only five chapters now!) I'll invest my full time commitment in this story and _Another Heart Calls_. I just can't manage three at once right now! I'll be stopping fanfic completely for a few months anyway, exam time soon! I hope you like this chapter, I worked hard on it, and I think it turned out quite well. Enjoy! Read and review (:  
_

_

* * *

_

She awoke, to a dark room, a faint chink of light, escaping heavy purple curtains in the corner, _moonlight_. Voices murmured all around, and her head felt heavy and weighted, as if she'd gained a ton in a night. It didn't feel _right_, it didn't feel like she should be waking up, and for a moment she was terrified that she'd been kidnapped, or worse, done _something_ with _someone _she shouldn't have. She just new what would happen to her then, if Trevor found out, he'd _kill _her. They'd just had an argument because she thought he was cheating on her. If she'd done something stupid it would be the end, and she didn't want that to happen.

She glanced around, spying a boy and a man. At first glance the boy was beautiful, with thick dark hair, wide chocolate eyes, and a pale complexion. He had on a battered t-shirt, skinny jeans a pair of converse. He looked wonderful. He whispered to the man, who was bald, skinny and tall, and quite creepy looking. Suddenly, she felt uneasy.

She couldn't quite make out the voices, they were talking so quickly, muttering to each other. It was almost like she was underwater, it all around her ears, unable to hear.

Alexander and Jameson looked at the girl, their eyes widening. Neither had expected her to speak. Alexander glanced over at her, eyes widening as he noticed the effects of the change. In the flickering candle light, he was almost positive he could see flashes of red in her eyes, and gently pointed canines when she opened her mouth and stared at them both. Alexander swallowed as she stared at them, eyes widening, face contorting in confusion, a deep line forming in her forehead.

The beautiful dark haired boy came forward, eyes glittering in faint candle light, becoming lovelier with each step he took, he spoke in a beautiful voice too, lilting and quiet, like a hymn. His magic eyes latched onto mine, and he spoke in a voice that was barely a sound, it was so quiet, and slow.

"I said did you say my name?" Raven whispered, more to herself than him, the words falling from her parted lips. She looked even paler than before, chewing on her lip. Alexander stared into her wide, glistening chocolate brown eyes, his heart heaving. He didn't know what to say to her, his mind had gone blank. "Who are you? I don't recognise you!" she suddenly crouched lower, almost as if she wash hugging herself, holding herself together. Her breathing became pants, eyes growing wider still. She looked absolutely terrified. Alexander didn't blame her. She had a right to be scared. He shook his head, sensing Jameson shaking his in unison. Raven continued to stare at them, her breathing speeding up. She didn't understand. Who were these strange people standing in front of her? She glanced at the boy, who'd shook his head. She bit her lip, sensing that there was something . . . unusual about him. She wondered if it was the fact that his dark eyes flashed red in the light when she stared at him. She tasted blood on her lips as she gently bit down, that was odd too. Normally she'd have to thoroughly chew her lips to cause any bleeding, what was going on? The boy was staring at her lip, worriedly, and so she placed her fingertips to her teeth, feeling them. How strange. When she took away her finger, there was blood smeared on it, a tiny, cut indented into the skin. Alexander saw her lifting her finger gently to her mouth and prodding the sharp canines, then he saw her surprised, scared face when she glanced at the finger, now oozing blood. Oh dear, perhaps he should . . . She looked up, her wide eyes full of even more fear. Alexander was certain his gaze would mirror hers. He just didn't know how he was going to tell her, about what he'd done, about what she'd become. There wasn't an easy way.

"My name's Alexander," he supposed this was as good a place as any to start. "This is my butler, Jameson." Raven looked at Jameson, wearily. Alexander didn't blame her, Jameson was particularly creepy looking. Raven looked at the two men in front of her, her mind clouding over with fear. She didn't know why they were or why she was sitting there, on the chaise lounge, feeling like crap. The boy, Alexander, she was a little more sure about him. He seemed kind, with sweet eyes and a quiet, calm way of speaking, but she still didn't trust him. She didn't know what was going on, and she was scared. What if they were kidnappers or something? What if . . . Oh why was she here?! There were so many questions roaming around her mind, but the second was the most prominent, that and what was going on with the cut on her finger? But she didn't suppose they could answer that question.

"Raven," she whispered.

"Yes, I knew that."  
"How?" she faltered, crying out now, but before he got a chance to answer, she'd strung out a flurry of questions. "What am I _doing _here? Where am I? What's going on?" Raven blurted, feeling like she was on verge of tears. Alexander looked at her, eyes softening a little. She looked so vulnerable and impossibly weak, sitting there, tears about to trickle from her eyes. He felt like going across and stroking her cheek, kissing her forehead, promising her everything would be all right – except he didn't.

"That's difficult to answer," he managed to say, searching for the right words. "Do you remember seeing me at all – ever?" He had to be certain she didn't recognise him a little from when he swooped down on her in the cemetery. If she recognised him, maybe he could explain a little easier? She nodded, then she shook her head, then she bit her lip and shrugged. There was a part of her that told her she did know him, a weeny little inkling. She could vaguely remember sitting in the cemetery, and this impossibly cool, dark figure swooping over, and – _biting _her. Then it was all black. She shuddered. Biting her? Well that was a new one. That wasn't normal . . . That couldn't be him could it? No sane person would bite someone. Which meant, that he was either completely crazy, a lunatic, it wasn't him . . . _or_

No! The possibility of _or _was too crazy, maybe she was insane one? There weren't any vampires, everyone knew that! As much as she liked to hope and pretend, they were figments of imagination, only a fool would think otherwise.

"I think, maybe, you were in the cemetery?" as she said it, he nodded, confirming her worst fears. OK. She was either sitting there with lunatic weirdos, cannibals or _vampires_. Right now she wasn't sure which was worse.

"That was me."

"Right, well . . . I guess I must have blacked out or something, thanks for looking after me, I'll just be going-" she tried to get up but he was there in an instance, pushing her back into the chaise longue.

"You can't go." A shiver raced down her spine as he said those words, so forcefully, his searing hot gaze on her face. "You _can't_." The intensity in his eyes was enough to stop the protests that tried to battle their way up her throat.

"Just tell me what I'm doing here!" she said instead, feeling the tears threaten to come once more. She wouldn't allow herself to cry in front of them both, she wouldn't. That was a sure sign of weakness, and she couldn't allow it to happen! She didn't want to appear vulnerable and weak in front of them. She had to try and stay strong. He sighed, sitting down on a chair carelessly, waving the butler away when he came forward.

"Jameson. If you'd leave us alone for a minute. Perhaps I'll be able to explain it better," he must have seen the way she kept peering anxiously at Jameson. He was a rather strange, frightful fellow. The grave butler made his way out, walking slowly and stiffly. Once he was out, Alexander turned to Raven, coughing to clear his throat. "I'm afraid you won't like what I'm going to tell you," he warned her truthfully. She shrugged, seeming to not even hear him. "Well, then . . ." he was dumbfounded but he barely showed it. He'd gotten so good at hiding his emotions, that he didn't let anything show as he stared at her, searching for words. He just focused on her beautiful face, with the anxious, wide eyes and bitten lips. He decide that he didn't need to look for words. Maybe if what he said came from his heart, from him, they wouldn't carry such a sore sting.

Ha, who was he kidding?

Whatever he attempted to do, he was going to hurt her. He could already see it, the shock, the anger, the terror. In half a second she'd be running from there, running to Becky Miller and her boyfriend and her foster family. Everyone would know that the Sterlings up on Benson Hill were vampires, and then the crowds would come. Like Frankenstein or Dracula, they'd come for him, and surely kill not only him but Jameson. Then sweet Raven would be turned upon out of fear she was one of the undead too – and she was. It may be contemporary America, but this was a small, sheltered town. They feared and loathed what they didn't understand, and they already saw Alexander and Jameson as outsiders. If it came to be, they'd finish them off, if they regarded it as the best thing for the town. Perhaps, since the times had changed, they'd merely get the police to come and escort them to a lab where they could try and work out this pehnomenon. His whole world would surely end up being exposed, and he couldn't let that happen. New passion sizzled through his blood, and he decided, once and for all, that there was no way Raven was getting out until she'd listened and understood – whatever happened.

"When you first saw me, in the cemetery, I was looking for something – for _someone_," he paused, watching her. "You were that someone that I ended up, finding what I was looking for in. I'm afraid that because of my senseless, poor judgement I have caused a gravious error to befall your life." She was looking a little more anxious at this, but she didn't let it show. She put up a brave face. He sort of admired it. It was obvious she was terrified, but not once had she tried to make a run for it, or anything. She was obviously brave. "You see, I'm not like you, I'm not human." Her beautiful eyes widened but she didn't really react, just allowed her eyes to travel up and down his body, squinting. Probably trying to suss out if there was anything about him that seemed not human.

"Not human-" he shushed her, placing a single, black finger-nail to his lips.

"Please, let me speak. I'll answer your queries after," _If you don't try and run away before I end_, he added silently. "I'm not completely unlike a human, physically, I look the same as you, I basically am the _same _as you, except for some big differences. Whilst humans spend their night asleep, their days full of sun and warmth, it's the night that's in my soul rather than the day. Whilst humans take photographs by the thousands, and so often dote over mirrors, I cannot see my reflection," she'd placed a hand over her mouth, her breathing erratic. She'd already guessed. "But the main difference is not either of these things. It's the main basis of our _diet_." By now he was one hundred percent sure she'd already guessed, he was certain, from the way she sort of backed away. Her heart was racing frantically, just willing him to continue and say those horrible words. The one word that was a single, racing thought in her mind. Vampire. She wished with all her heart that it wasn't that, that he was just crazy, vampires didn't exist, right? But one look at him, and she knew. He was so pale, and there was purple bruise-like shadows under his eyes, and he had pointed _teeth_ . . . Oh God! She touched the canines she'd felt before, the ones that had caused the cut. What did this mean? Surely she wasn't-?

No.

Alexander saw her frightened stare, saw her touch her pointed teeth once more and pull away in horror. He wondered if she'd guessed that far ahead too. She was a sharp one, or perhaps the fact that she wore black from head to toe said something about her. Maybe she was secretly wishing for someone to come along and do this . . . Ha. Unlikely.

"I can see you've already worked it out, right?" she nodded, gulping, not knowing what to say. Alexander appeared to be looking at her neck, with a fire intensity, so she duitifully felt around her graceful, swan-like neck. Immediately she knew why. She felt two small puncture wounds, indented into the skin. What the _hell_? He . . . He . . . He _bit _me? She was going into full on panic mode now, unable to contain her fear, she felt herself tremble and knew she was shaking all over. She kept touching the wounds, just willing them to not be there the next time she touched them. They were there, every time.

"I'm sorry, I know it's only words, but I mean them. I was senseless and stupid! I let blood lust take over and I didn't think." His eyes shone, tears about to fall. Raven didn't know what to say. On one hand she was terrified, on the other, well, sort of intrigued. Her life had been so boring, so depressing and empty of anything. Maybe this was just fate? Maybe it was meant to be?

"Does that mean I'm a vampire?" Alexander wondered if he imagined the slight hint of _interest _in her voice.

"Yes," he nodded gravely. "You'll become like me. Immortal. A demon of the night, an unholy blasphemous being, a nosferatu, a _vampire._" The way he said it made it all sound so terrible, that she felt her heart shudder in her chest. She peered at him, at his truly apologetic expression.

"A vampire? For real?" she was a little wary. Not only was his impossible, he didn't appear to be kidding around with her. How weird! "Like in the films?" He nodded, head sunk into his hands, and he howled out in anguish, closing his eyes and sighing.

"I'm so sorry, not that you need to accept my apologies. I did something so terrible! I forced this life upon you! A life I wouldn't even choose for myself! You can't go back now! God, I'm a monster!"

"You're not a monster," she told him quietly, leaning forwards ever so slightly, eyes shining. Alexander was sure he only imagined her looking kind of _pleased_. What he didn't realise was that Raven Madison was no ordinary Gothic teenager. Raven Madison had wildly macabre ambitions far greater than Alexander could anticipate. From the moment she watched Bela Lugosi on a tiny black and white TV, acting his heart out as Count Dracula, Raven knew one thing, and one thing alone: she was destined to be a vampire. Since her long-gone parents had filled her nights with scary, but entertaining black and white horror films and spooky stories, since her life was not one of daylight and outings to the park, but nights spent huddled under covers, the dark drapped over everything, blacking out all light. Since then, she'd known. When asked by her teacher, at five years old, she answered surely. There was fire-fighters, ballerinas, nurses, but only one of the tiny tots said, in a surprisingly sure voice, "I want to be a . . . vampire!" From that day on a normal life simply wouldn't do. School was a yawning expanse of endless purgatory, trivial and meaningless. Raven had ambition, drive and determination, sure, but it was for all the wrong things. While her teachers wanted her to push her mind to the maximum, reach for the stars and never stop, Raven was more fixated on a life of darkness, mystique and intrigue. She knew that she was destined for that sort of life, and she wouldn't settle for anything less. Being a Goth, obsessing over vampires and the supernatural and loving all things black only intensified her wistful need for a brooding, nosferatu vampire, who'd be able to love her unequivocally for eternity, sweep her off her feet and take her back to his wonderfully ghoulish castle. In a way, it seemed that Alexander had subconsciously answered her call. She had to admit it, she was still a little frightened of Alexander, of what could be happening, but at the same time, she could imagine how easily she'd get used to it all. It was what she'd been wishing for forever. She couldn't reject it now.

"I am!" He was still saying, crying out. "I gave into the temptation, the blood lust, I went too long without it. I took an innocents life! I'm a murderer, Oh God!" He wailed out in anguish, unable to contain his horror, his anger at this revelation. "You have a life, you've got friends, a boyfriend, a foster family-"  
"A foster family?" she was cut short from her horror, both from the pain of watching him cry out, and the pain of knowing that her life was pretty much over. How on Earth did he know she had a foster family? How? She barely told that to anyone. "Wait a minute, how do you know I've got a foster family?" He looked at her sheepishly, peering out from behind his curtain of dark hair, eyes shining.

"Becky Miller was looking for you." Becky? She was looking for her? _Why_? Then it dawned on her. Of course, she must have been waiting on Becky last night, and then when she didn't show, Becky got worried, and when Becky got worried she was a force to be reckoned with. She must have been out putting up fliers or something, she must have imagined Raven had been kidnapped or she'd ran off, and she'd decided to try and find her. Now Becky was finally getting the chance to put her mastered detective skills into practise, seeing as she watched late-night crime dramas on cable almost every evening.

"When?" she sounded so small and timid, she cleared her throat, trying again. "Uh, when was this . . . ?"

"Yesterday, not long after I brought you back . . . and you began to _change_." She gulped, looking down at herself. She didn't look any different, she was certain, she didn't feel that different, except there was a sort of hollow, yearning at the back of her throat. Like there was a fire down there and she'd need an exstinguisher very soon, but not yet.

"Does this mean I can't go out in sunlight?" She thought of hot days spent outside, lazing around with Becky. Ice cream cones and hanging out playing Tennis with Trevor. Gone. She shrugged, she'd always preferred the night time anyway, even if no one in this small town seemed to understand it.

"No. When the sunrises, we have to sleep. When it sets, it our equivalent of a day beginning." She nodded, she was pretty certain she could get used to this. "Anything else you want to know?" he was shocked at how well she'd taken it. He imagined bawling and screaming and trying to escape, instead she just looked frightened and worried, but soon seemed to get over it, accept it. Very odd. He'd expected her to put up so much more of a fight.

"Yes, can I not eat garlic? What about the whole blood thing? Will my reflection not be there when I look in a mirror?" She was eager now, to learn about his world, her cravings for information too great not to meet. "What about immortality, stakes through the heart, crosses?" He almost laughed as the legends kept pouring, almost all of them truth. "Holy water? Sunlight that burns? Turning into bats?"

"I'll start from the beginning, shall I? Garlic is extremely poisonous to us, we have to take a life-saving injection if we are anywhere near garlic. Blood," he took a deep breath. "Well we need it frequently. At least twice a week, if not more. We can eat regular food too, but most of it is unapitising, unless it's bloody steak . . ." he winked subtly. "I'll teach you about that in time. About the reflection, no, you cannot see yourself in a mirror. You will appear as nothing at all. You won't be there." She shivered, not being there when she stood in front of a mirror? Now that was a thought scarier than any of the others. Did that mean she didn't have a soul any more?

"No cameras either?"  
"No." He shrugged, allowing her to take it all in, as he pressed on. "Immortality, next. Yes, you live forever."  
"That it?"  
"That's it. Stakes through the heart work of course! There are numerous ways to kill a vampire, many of them you would be best to try and avoid. Crosses and holy water, don't affect us at all. Sunlight is fine as long as it's not direct, and although we're meant to sleep during the day, sometimes we get insomnia, just like humans, and bats . . . " He flashed her a smile, the first one she'd seen on him yet. "Yes. We can morph into those creates. I'll teach you that, too. Is that everything?"

"No. What about ancient burial ground? I've heard if vampires bite their victims there, they're bound to them forever, would the cemetery count?" He stopped still, blood running icily cold. He hadn't thought of that. _Crap_. Now he'd taken one more thing. Her free will.

"I'm afraid it will," he looked solemn and grave, but her ghost of a smile gave him some hope. Perhaps she wasn't completely opposed to spending forever bound to him after all. "Anything else?"  
"Yes, one last thing. What does all that mean for me, my school, my friends, the town . . . I mean how can I just disappear? I mean, I'm assuming I will just be disappearing since I can't go out in direct sunlight . . ."  
"I don't know. See, that's why I think of my actions as so completely senseless and selfish. I've left you with nothing, no options, your future, your hopes, your dreams – _gone_." She didn't know what to say to that, but she knew in her heart of hearts that he was wrong. "Raven, I'm so sorry . . ." she shook her head. Apologises didn't mean anything. They were just the same old words that she didn't need. She'd given up hearing people say sorry a long time ago.

"Hey, I realise you never told me how come you know my name," she suddenly pointed out, cutting off his stream of apologetic thoughts.

"Oh, right," he unfolded the sheet of paper he'd been clutching, and passed it to her, wordlessly. She looked at the sheet of paper, frowning at the information dotted all across it. There she was, in a medium sized, slightly-grainy square, almost out of focus. It wasn't the best photo, but she was smiling up at the camera, looking happier than she'd physically looked for awhile. Raven could barely remember where it had been taken, until she noticed the tiny part of Trevor, near the bottom. A curl of blonde hair, and halves and quarters of his facial features. Ah, Trevor. He was just a meaningless being to fill the void, the yearning for some affection and kisses, he didn't mean anything to her. When popular jock Trevor asked her to go on a date with him – her, the schools biggest freak – she couldn't exactly say no. A year and a bit later, they were still at it, but she wanted out – and fast. She realised it must have been after one of his stupid football game, maybe for yearbook or by Becky, she couldn't remember. It was awhile ago, back when despite wearing black clothes and having slightly Gothic tendencies, she wasn't a complete Goth, and therefore not a complete social outcast. Even now, with her social pariah stance over her name, Trevor and Raven were still an item, but alas, the spark was very surely dimming down. Raven couldn't even remember what it felt like to kiss him and feel _something_. She used to wonder if it was her, if she just wasn't pretty enough, fun enough, just _enough _for him, but by now, she was beginning to realise it was all him. No one would ever be good enough for Trevor except one person – himself. It was _almost _a relief to be able to confidently she could step out of his life and be done with it. She'd wanted to rid herself of him for so long, but she couldn't find the right way to do it.

"I take it that's your boyfriend?" Alexander said miserably. "See? I've stripped you of _everything_! Say you've got a really good thing going there, say it's the sort of love that only comes round once ever ten years, say it's . . ."  
"It's not." She told him flatly, a little annoyed that the reason for the misery was not because she had a boyfriend, but because he was denying her of opportunities.

"But say it was . . ."  
"It would never have been with Trevor." He didn't know what to say at that, at the fierce, furious denial in her voice. There it was, that unidentifiable emotion again, which he was now certain was a sort of jealously, he was jealous that Raven had a boyfriend, however much she didn't want him. He realised that he liked Raven. That for the first time in his life his heart beat harder when he looked at a girl. He had to be careful though. He couldn't show this, he couldn't freak her out like that. Besides, she'd have too much going on to even consider entering into anything with him. It was a foolish, ridiculous idea. She scanned the page again, reading about her name, her age, her _foster parents _ . . . Uh oh. Now everyone would know, and she'd tried so hard to hide it! Only Becky knew, even Trevor didn't know! Now everyone was going to find out. She went a little pink at that. She tried so expertly to hide her foster parents, she didn't like people knowing, because then they took pity on her and thought of her as little orphan Annie. They were even more sorry when they found out why she was an orphan. Oh, the tragic story of her life! She hoped he was one of those dark, moody types that was far too aloof and uncaring to ask private, personal questions. Somehow she doubted this completely. But he still knew about her foster parents, which was a huge sore spot. She didn't like to flaunt her tragic life, she liked to hide them, under heard to reach layers where barely anyone ever trespassed. The idea that anyone who glanced at these fliers would know made her quake in annoyance. Why was Becky so stupid? She didn't want this!  
"Can't I go and see Becky? I need to tell her I'm going away for a while," she wondered, fixing her anxious gaze to him. "She'll only worry even more. If I go tell her I'm running away, that will sort things out for awhile, they'll be looking at me, but . . . We could go somewhere, you could teach me what to do, how to be like you. I'm sure I could learn. Then we could come back, and, well I can leave school, you know? I don't have to stay. I'll be eighteen in one and half years, my own person! We could make this work-"  
"See how messed up this is?" he sighed, angrily. "You having to run from your home town, away from your friends and boyfriend, and family! All because of me and my stupid cravings. I should have thought!" She wished he'd stop that. It was no use him complaining and angsting over his emotions – he'd done it now – he couldn't change it!

"Stop. It's happened, you've bitten me, I'm a vampire. There's no two ways about it, all right? What we've got to do now is work out a way for me to adjust in a place where I won't suffer nosey neighbours, anxious friends and bone-headed jocks. I think my idea may just work . . ." and just like that she'd geared him ready for action, ready to sort out the muddle that he'd caused in the middle of her life. If Alexander could do anything for her, he could help her adjust to this new life – what else was there to do? It was the only way to try and make it up to her.

* * *

An hour later, Raven climbed through her bedroom window, Alexander close on her heels. She stubbed the toe of her combat boots on her bedpost, yelping out, but Alexander placed his hand over her mouth, silencing her.

"Save all the noise for when you're near the door. If you make too much noise up here, they'll just lock the windows and doors – you won't be able to get out." She nodded, feeling his hand still on her mouth. "Now pick out something, anything!" he whispered as he let her go and she grabbed a black rucksack, slamming clothing, and necessities into it. She careful piled in some make-up, a pair of vans and a hairbrush to finish it off and she was done. Then she stupidly, absentmindlessly decided that glancing at the mirror was a good idea. With one quick glance she'd dropped her bag, a wide-eyed, horrified expression on her face. She was in shock as she glared at what should have been there. Realising at once what was missing. She was missing. She just wasn't _there_. When she looked in the mirror, wide and ornate, her reflection was _gone_. There was just dead air there, not her

"Wow, that's not right," she muttered, shaking a little. The air had suddenly ran cold, and she'd began to shiver and shake, writhing in front of him as she stared at the space where her reflection should have been. She couldn't tear her eyes away from it. It was _horrible_. Not being there felt like a part of her soul had been ripped out, like she wasn't human. Well, she wasn't.

"Raven, we haven't got time. Jameson's scouring for mansions as we speak in nearby towns. We only have until he finds one to get back. You've still got to go and see Becky Miller, and have the fight with your foster parents-" she nodded, moving away as he touched her shoulder. She grabbed several more things, staring around her simple room. It wasn't how she wanted it. They wouldn't let her paint it black or have nearly anything lying around it. It was so pretty and white and _boring_. She couldn't wait to be out of there, out of this town, out of this state of mind. The world was so big, there was so much out there, she craved adventure and everything it had to offer. No use staying here when she could be out there.

"Your cue to go," she told him as she headed for the door. Alexander had borrowed Jameson's car, which was waiting outside. He nodded, slinking into the shadows.

"I'll be round the block. Don't stand in front of any mirrors, go into the kitchen or allow him to shine any lights directly at you," he instructed her carefully. "Now, hurry up." With that he had darted out the window, and slunk into the dark night. It was the middle of the night, of course, and the plan of action was for Raven to be trying to sneak out, make a lot of noise and then get caught. She'd argue with her foster parents and then say she was leaving, slam the door and run round to the car. Later they'd probably report to the police about the argument, and that would be her incentive for leaving. It would all work out perfectly.

Raven was feeling a little sick at the thought of shouting at her foster parents. They weren't bad people, a little bit too boring and strict for her liking, but they'd always treated her kindly and tried their best. Still, this is what had to be done, to protect her, protect them all. John and Victoria would get over this, she'd make it up to them one day.

She clumsily made her way downstairs, making sure to bang her feet hard with each step she took. She raced her hands down the banister, littering items all over the floor as she continued to do this once down stairs, knocking things off tables as she headed for the door. She knocked more things over, crashing into the door, swearing at the top of her voice, and suddenly, very surely, opening the door and banging it shut.

It didn't take long after that.

Soon there was the banging of another door, an middle-aged man and woman appeared at the top of the stairs. He was in checked pyjamas, she in a silken negligee, how delightfully boring. John was wearing a disgruntled expression on his face, the signs of just being awoken from a deep sleep very apparent. Victoria just looked startled, and quite apprehensive, crouching behind her John as she looked at Raven pitingly. It was that pity that would help Raven do what needed to be done. There had always been anger bubbling up inside – now she'd have a a chance to unleash it for a little while. Raven sucked in a breath, measuring John's forceful glare. Uh-oh. It was never a good idea to wake John up in the middle of the night. He was a beast then.

"Raven, what are you doing?" he asked first, coming down the stairs, slowly, Victoria at his heels, like a hissing cat.

"I'm going out," she smirked, trying to be as insolent as possible. John definitely didn't like back-chatting, so she was going to back-chat all she could. "Obviously." If there was another thing John hated, it was the attitude that she so often carried herself with, so it seemed a good idea to turn that up to maximum too. Victoria was sort of placid, she'd never shouted at Raven, never caused a scene. She just let John do all the talking, the perfect little house-wife.

"No, you're not!" He was down now, up in her face, shouting, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her so much she cried out. "Raven! It's three in the morning! You're absolutely _not _going out at this time!" He gave her another shake for good measure, Victoria telling him not to.

"Don't her John!" she whimpered, going to hug Raven. Raven flinched away, glaring at her.

"Says who?" she pulled herself away from them both, arching her back and rubbing her shoulders. "God, John, don't make me call the police. You could go down for assault, don't you realise?" she smirked again, making for the door. John was quicker.

"Raven. Don't get smart with me. You're not going out, you're staying in and that's that-"  
"You can't make me!" Raven told him, thrusting the door open. "You're not my father! You're not my parents! You're just a bunch of lowlifes who thought it would be fun to help an orphan in need! Well I don't need you, get it? I'm leaving! I'm getting out of this stupid town, away from you all, and just going. Don't you dare try and stop me!" They made a grab for her, trying to hold her back as she ran from them, but they couldn't catch her. All they could do was stand on their doorstep wailing at her to come back. Which she dutifully ignored. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

She was crying by the time she managed to haul herself into the car, hot, fiery tears falling down her face. Her chest was heaving and she felt sick, she didn't like the guilt that was slowly, but surely creeping its way into the corners of her mind. She'd leave so many people worried about her, while she just went off and had a good time. It didn't seem right, and for the first time she understood and shared Alexander's anger. What he'd done wasn't wholly a good thing. It had sent off a chain link of events, hurting people in quick succession. Despite this, she knew that even if he'd asked her first they'd probably be in the same situation. She wouldn't have thought about the downsides, only saw the glamour and wonder of being a vampire.

"Are you all right?" he studied her carefully, as he set the car into gear, speeding off. She directed him to turn right, making sure he knew where he was going, before she spoke.

"No, but, I'll be fine," she shrugged, wiping away the tears. He looked at her for a prolonged moment, sensing that even if she'd wanted to tell him more, she wouldn't. Raven put up this invisible wall, and didn't let anyone inside. He knew that he'd have to work hard to be able to gain her trust, and understand her. He drove on, winding down the roads, streaming through the throngs of traffic, reaching, at last, a lane that took them to an old-style farm house. Becky Miller's house. Raven got out, placing a finger to her lips, the moonlight illuminating her pale face. Alexander watched, with the guide of the moon, as she walked around the side of the house, tip-toeing as she went, carefully pulling herself up onto the garage roof. From the sloping roof, she leaned down, found a stone, and hit it at a window. It bounced off, almost denting the surface. Half a second later, Becky Miller stood there, rubbing sleep from her eyes, breaking into a smile as she spotted Raven. Raven hauled herself up onto the ledge, entering Becky's room.

Becky hugged Raven heard, relieved and pleased to see her friend. Becky had managed to convince herself that Raven was gone, that she'd never see her beloved best friend again. She didn't hold much hope in seeing her that night, so to find Raven, up to her old tricks, waking Becky in the middle of the night, was nothing short of an overwhelming relief. Raven opened her mouth to speak, but Becky didn't let her for a minute, just sat holding onto her, shaking her head. Raven looked around Becky's familiar bedroom, the place where she'd spent many a night like this, pouring out her secrets, her hopes, her greatest fears, and now here she was, about to tell Becky a pack of lies. It didn't feel right. After Becky made sure she wasn't dreaming, and that Raven wasn't hurt, she allowed her to speak.

"Becky, I'm not staying," Raven hissed when Becky asked what was going on.

"Not staying? Where do you plan on going then, if you're not staying?" Becky thought Raven was joking, or wistfully thinking of her dreams of escaping the small town. Raven so frequently told her she was going to get out of there, that one day she'd be someone. Becky listened fine and well, but she always thought Raven was going to end up staying there. Raven could dream and hope as much as she liked, but unless she produced something outstanding in her exams, Becky could see her staying right where she was, and Becky with her. Becky was a firm believer of being realistic. Whilst Raven day-dreamed, hoped, wished of a new life, Becky tried to be honest with herself. No one was going to come sweep her off her feet, fate didn't exist, and the only time you ever got what you wanted was when you worked hard enough for it. No use pretending anything different.

"I'm leaving, tonight," Raven couldn't hide the excitement in her voice. She'd decided to tell Becky about Alexander. Big him up as some knight in shining armour, her true love, that would be Raven's real reason for leaving, or so Becky would think. When people tried to find her they'd imagine she was with her boyfriend. Raven was leaving false breadcrumbs, she was planning to tell Becky that they were going to Canada. That way Becky would tell people that's what Raven told her, and the false breadcrumbs would be lain. No one would suspect that Raven and Alexander were probably only going to be a little way from the town. Alexander had to stay close to the mansion, in case his parents came, and Raven certainly didn't want to upset his parents. She was certain they'd be truly ghoulishly wonderful, with ghoul being the opporative word.

"Leaving?" Becky realised that her friend wasn't joking. She was deadly serious. Thoughts raced throughout Becky's mind, and that boy, the one who'd vehemently denied he knew Raven, but had still clutched picture with surprising force, he turned up more than once. Becky knew he was in some way connected, she just knew. "Raven what's going on?"

"I've met someone," Raven confessed, bluntly. There was truth in it, she told herself. "A boy." When Raven giggled like that, Becky knew. It was hundred percent that boy – one hundred percent.

"Oh, what's he like?" Becky giggled with her friend.

"Gorgeous, of course!" Raven laughed, gushing. She'd watched girls do this all the time, giggle away with their friends over hot boys. She could do it no bother. It was the deeper stuff she had trouble with. "Tall, dark haired, Gothic," she bit her lip as Becky raised her eyebrows.

"What does he have to do with you leaving? Surely if he's here, you'd stay?" Raven shook her head.

"No. He's only passing through, but I know he's who I'm supposed to be with, I just _feel _it. So that's why I'm going with him. He's going to Canada, and so am I," she beamed at that, quite proud of herself for coming up with all that.

"Wait a second, you're going to Canada, with a guy you barely know? That you just met?" Raven nodded, biting deeper into her lip. "Isn't that a bit stupid? And where were you yesterday? I was supposed to meet you, and you never showed up! I was worried," Becky pointed at the bundle of fliers that Raven had already seen.

"This worried?" Raven frowned. "Becky, I was with him, OK? I'm sorry, I should have called . . ."

"Raven, as much as I don't like Trevor, he is your boyfriend. You're just ditching him for this new guy?"

"Trevor, well, it would have never worked out for life, right? I don't feel what I feel with this guy with Trevor. I don't love him," she said simply, wishing Becky wouldn't ask so many questions. "Anyway, Becky, he's waiting outside, I can't be too late. I'll miss you, but we'll be back down soon, I hope. I'll call you, yeah?" As Raven got up to go, Becky tugged on her arm, trying to make her sit back down.

"Raven! You can't just go! You're life is here! What about school and everything?" Becky knew she'd do all she could to try and make Raven stay. She had to!

"I don't care, Becky. I love him, that's enough. When you find love, you'll understand! Now get off me," she pulled away from her friend, sighing. Becky had made scratch marks on her shoulder, Raven sighed, glaring at Becky. The hollow yearning at the back of her throat suddenly became . . . a little less bearable, and she felt like . . . She didn't know what she felt like, but she knew it wasn't good for Becky. She needed something, something to fill this _hunger_. But she wasn't going to get it from Becky. She _had _to get out of there!

Becky was looking at Raven, at her eyes, in horror. Her eyes had flashed red right there, and she knew she wasn't imagining things. Raven's eyes had just flashed _red_! Becky backed away from her friend ever so slightly, watching as she darted out the window, into the black night without a second glance. Becky ducked out of the window in enough time to see Raven getting into a sleek black car, sitting beside a boy and weeping as it drove off.

Becky didn't know what had just happened, but she was going to find out. Raven could count on that.

* * *

_Thank you for reading, hope you liked it! Read and review please (:_


	3. Old Enemies

**Vampire Kisses:** _Love At First Bite_

_Chapter Three – Old Enemies_

Have you ever met your true love?

Are you together, or apart?

Is he the same as you?

Or are you opposites attract?

Was it love at first sight?

Or love at first

**_bite_.**

_What if Alexander was a dark, trouble young vampire, and Raven an angry, teenage girl? What if instead of them meeting sweetly and falling in love at first sight, it was love at first bite? Alexander bites Raven when she's in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Upon seeing how beautiful she is, and feeling remorseful, Alexander carries her back to the mansion and tends to her. Sparks fly as Raven settles into her new lifestyle. RxA_

* * *

**AN: I know, I know, I KNOW.**

**It's taken me an absolute age to get this old. Partly, it's because I've been studying like crazy (four exams down so far! Drama in two hours, wish me luck!) and doing my exams, but also because I've been hugely focusing on my own original story. It's hit the 600 pages mark, and it's completed (although I'm in the midst of editing it thoroughly) so your patience would be lovely. You never know, be patient with me and I might even post the first chapter of that up somewhere. You never know (although since I'm planning on getting it published, it would only be the first chapter), right?**

**I hope you like this chapter, it's shorter than I usually write, also not a lot happens, except setting the scene. It's probably one of my weaker chapters—but I've tried to make it interesting by introducing an old enemy back into Alexander's life. Hmm, can any of you guess who? And also by hinting at the first signs of a romance, and getting them all set up for living in Hipsterville.**

**Enjoy! Please review though, I don't want my hard work to go to waste! (:**

* * *

"Alexander?" He lifted his eyes off the road for a fraction of a second, just long enough to see that Raven had tears streaming down her face. Jameson made a coughing sound in the back and Alexander knew that he was trying to tell him to swerve into the Petrol Station just ahead. Wordlessly, he did so, watching as she choked on his name again. "Alexander?" She sounded scared, tired, lonely. His heart swelled with longing for her, he wanted to share her burden. After all, he was the cause of all this. He was the catalyst that had sparked her early and untimely death.

"I'm going to go grab some coffee," Jameson told them, opening the car door and excrutiatingly slowly walking away. Alexander knew they'd have at least half an hour until he returned. He'd parked the car in a near by loading bay, it was the only car in the lot, and he could see through the wide expanse of windows that the petrol station was completely empty. Well, it was five in the morning and it was on a motorway near the outskirts of small towns.

"What's wrong?" He asked her, his heart pounding as her tears fell thick and fast.

"What's _right_?" She reply calmly, resting her head mournfully on her outstretched arms. "Oh, God, it's just hit me."

"What?" He inquired, sensitively pushing her hair away from her lovely face, watching as the charcoal eyeshadow and eyeliner made complicated, greying swirls down her face, where her tears were washing it all away. Her lip trembled as she loked at at him, trying very hard not to collapse into his open arms.

"I just left my old life behind," she murmured as he gestured for her to come into his arms. He didn't know if she'd accept—he didn't know what to _do_, _how _to comfort someone when they were unhappy. He didn't often see his father comforting his mother, and when he did he always put his arms around her. Alexander decided this might be the best thing to do.

"I mean I just said goodbye to my friends, my family, _everything_."

"I'm so sorry," he replied, encasing her in his arms, gently stroking her midnight hair, so it fanned around her shoulders in tumbling waves of deep ebony. "I'm so very, very sorry. I just . . . I don't think I can explain already more than I have; nothing sounds justified. The more I think it over in my head, the more I can't believe I did what I did to you. It doesn't seem right."

"No _you _don't understand," she replied pointedly. "I'm melancholy, yes, but I'm more kind of . . . _happy_. It's bittersweet, but, how I've longed to get out of there. I was always like a dark butterfly trapped under a glass jar right beside some pretty flowers. I could see all the wonderous world, see exactly what _I _wanted, yet I could never reach it. Although, I don't feel like this is the right way to do it, I'm sort of happy, in a way . . ." she was mumbling, sounding uncertain, scared, confused. He yearned to try and tell her it was going to be absolutely all right—but he couldn't say any of those things. He knew in his heart of hearts, that it wouldn't be all right for a very long time.

"Happy?" He almost gasped when she said those words and her eyes sort of lit up. She looked happy right enough, but at the same time, the happiness was only in flashes. The more consistent of all moods, was the depressed, unhappy pout, and of course, the tears. She was still crying, still holding her swan-like neck in her arms, as if she could still feel the penetration he'd left there, when he knew that after several hours, the markings wore off.

"I don't know." She admitted, chewing on her lip. It wasn't black any more, instead it was a mottled, pinkish colour, almost grey and sallow. In fact, all of her looked sort of grey and sallow, and her beautiful eyes didn't have that zipping sparkle. She looked weary, fed-up, _tired_.

Alexander wished there was something he could do. He wished he'd just met her randomly, and they could spend their days angsting over normal things. Alexander didn't normally wish to be normal. He loved being this gothic, deadly, alluring knight of the night. He loved being a vampire. It was who he was, what he was supposed to be. He couldn't feasibly remember a time when he'd wished to be anything but—and now here he was, wishing he was normal, wishing he was some ordinary guy who'd fallen for ordinary Raven. Ordinary wasn't doing Raven, any justice, he decided. Raven was undecidely _not _ordinary. Quite to the contrary, Raven was exceptional. He felt something deep within himself for her, and he knew it wasn't just the bond they had over shared blood.

Something _moved_ within him when she looked at him.

Butterflies ricoted upwards. The earth seemed to come to a standstill. He was held motionless, captivated by all that she was. She enchanted him, mesmerised him, made him to want to be _something_.

"Look, I cannot take back anything that I've done. I cannot erase the fact that I stole your life from you—your very breath from your lips, your blood from your veins—that I made you a prisoner to my life. I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. I'll forever be sorry about that, forever."

Just as Alexander was uttering those precious words, Raven felt a ghost of a smile trickle over her lips. She felt a radiant, self-assured ray of sunshine twinkle within her, and all of her problems and unhappiness was forgotten for that moment. The funny thing was, that he thought she was hugely upset because she was chained to being a vampire forever. It was such a silly, delightful notion, that he would think she was crying about that. That was the only thing stopping her silent tears from becoming full on sobs. They'd already assessed that situation. Her fears had evaporated for that topic. She felt almost complacent about everything right now. She'd been crying because she longed to erase the hunger she felt for Becky's blood, the fact that she'd had to say goodbye to her entire life—that was all she was sad about. That, and the enormity of the situation had just caught up with her. Right until that moment it hadn't seemed real at all, and now, it felt starkly, bitterly real. It'd been like some glorious dream. That sort of stuff just didn't happen normally. Gothic, beautiful, dream-like boys didn't pop into cemetery's and bite you, changing your life forever. Especially ones who acted like they might show some sort of interest in you. Raven hadn't really come to terms with what had happened. She'd been shocked and upset when she first heard the news, of course, but it didn't seem quite real. She went along with it, without probing any real questions, simply because she could barely believe her ears. Besides, anything that was going to get her out of this tiny, claustrophobic town was for the better. She just wished he'd come sooner, before all the arrogant, annoying people could get to her.

"I'm not angry or sad about what you did," Raven told Alexander in a very small, timid voice. "That's the one part that makes me kind of slightly, delusionally _happy_. I'm more sad about leaving Becky and just I don't know . . . I suppose things changing. I always talked about wanting everything to change—and now that they are, I'm not entirely sure I'm ready for it. It's kind of just sunk in, the fact that I'm sitting in a mercedes with a boy—sorry vampire—I barely know, ready to start a new chapter of my life, it all seems so _odd._ But I've bestowed every trust in you, I know that things will fall into place." She exhaled out of relief, and a rush of confidence at the beautiful smile decorating his gorgeous lips. Raven hadn't properly looked at Alexander before now. She'd noted that he was handsome, and gothically dark like her—but she hadn't noted the finer details; the exact shape of his cupid bow's lips; the meltingly beautiful golden tones in his chocolate-coloured eyes; the slender, elegant shape of his angular nose; the coils of soft, choppy, midnight-coloured waves that hung sleekly around his face. Alexander was model-beautiful, but not only that, he carried a certain intricate air of elegance about him. He was regal, she guessed, he wasn't like some feral, common vampire. He seemed special.

Alexander, meanwhile, was finding it duitfully hilarious that Raven chose to put all of her trust in a vampire. Humans by nature, by law, didn't put any trust in vampiric nosferatus that could kill them. His people had been persectued for centuaries, so although he would never lay a black fingernail on sweet Raven, he found it hilarious that she trusted him with her life. He supposed she didn't have any choice.

"How much longer?" Raven wondered, whiping her eyes. She was still encapsulated in his arms, her head just lightly resting on his muscular chest.

"Half an hour," he replied. He wasn't exactly sure where they were heading. They had a place in a cool local city, but Jameson told him to take the _long long _route there, because they still didn't know if that would provide Raven enough protection from people that could easily find her and haul her back home—where being a vampire wouldn't sit too well. Alexander didn't want to take her far away, but he felt like he didn't have a choice. Jameson was telling him to take strange routes, that were far out, away from anything, whilst Alexander just wanted to go to this city and get to his room there. He needed to relax, and it would soon be dawn. They had to make a decision about where they were headed very soon.

Raven shivered, looking sleepy, hungry, tired. Alexander knew they couldn't handle the hungry bit until they reached somewhere where Jameson could either get out those packs of blood or fix them bloody steaks. Raven would need blood soon though, they couldn't leave it too late. Jameson was coming back, carrying two steaming paper cups. Alexander assumed one was for Raven and the other for Jameson. Although he could drink and eat whatever he wished, anything but something dripping in blood didn't satisfy him.

Jamson wordlessly handed Raven a cup, sipping it idly in the backseat. Alexander seeked his chance.

"Jameson?" The butler nodded, still sipping at his drink. "We need to settle down somewhere soon. I know you don't think heading over to the city is a great idea, but it's the only one that we have. We already have a manor there, the one you said you'd reserved—and if anyone comes looking for Raven we can fly off again. I promised to protect her. I promise no one will find her, I won't let that happen until she's ready for it."

Jameson looked like he was weighing up his words in his mind, whilst Raven felt a little thrill ripple through her stomach when Alexander said _protect her_. She wanted to be protected by him. She wanted to be with him always, it was just as well they were bound to one another, because Raven couldn't in her wildest dreams see Alexander staying with her otherwise. She wasn't enough for him. She imagined someone like him would have a large amount of admirers, hanging breathlessly onto his every word. Why would he ever want someone this boring, this plain, this ordinary? As much as she liked to think she was someone special, unique, different, she knew she was only those things in her old town. Anywhere else, there was a thousand versions of her. Anywhere else she'd blend into the background, and Raven couldn't decide if she really wanted that.

"Very well," Jameson nodded, deciding there and then that the fire burning in Alexander's eyes was enough to satisfy him that the girl wouldn't be harmed.

He should probably have said harmed _any further_. She'd already been hurt in many ways, becoming a creature of the night wasn't easy or very pleasant, but she seemed to be rising to the challenge, like a little trouper. She seemed to understand that there was no way to reverse what had happened, and she should just look forwards and pray that things would work themselves out.

Jameson was praying with her.

Alexander nodded, buckling in his seatbelt and quickly reversing the car out of the deserted petrol station. At least now he knew where he was going, he could have some sort of sense of direction. He felt in control now, like this was what was supposed to happen an he was relishing it.

Becky was pacing her bedroom frantically. It had been hours since Raven came in through her bedroom window, a starry-eyed, kissed look on her face. Becky had known from the minute she turned her head and looked out the window the third time that it was that boy. The boy who'd so vehemently denied knowing Raven.

Ha. He was surely doing more than knowing Raven right now!

Becky was sort of happy for them—she wanted her best friend to be loved by someone, she didn't want her to be an outcast forever, but why couldn't she fall for someone who was sticking around? Why did she have to leave, while Becky stayed here, trying to pick up the destroyed fragments? Already, Raven's step parents had called around, wondering if she knew where she was. Becky hated having to lie through her teeth. She hated having to say that the last time she saw Raven was two days ago, when it was really hours. They told her that she'd come home and caused havoc, shouting, wailing, storming away—the argument seemed to have really got it her because she was claiming she was leaving the town for good. They were terribly upset, and Becky wished Raven could see this. She'd never seen them this worried about her. Maybe it would let Raven know that all of her complaining about not being wanted wasn't true in the slightest. They seemed to want her—an awful lot.

Becky needed Raven to come back. She'd only sit and worry and worry about her if she didn't come back. Raven had to come back. People would ask questions. Police would be involved. Raven was a minor. She couldn't escape from this life until she was eighteen, surely she knew that?

Becky knew that she had to do something. She had to find Raven. She'd talked about heading over to Canada, which scared Becky. Canda was a big place, as was the US. She'd never find her unless she had some direct breadcrumbs to follow. Raven had sad Canada, but perhaps she was only saying that to try and guide Becky away from the real scent? Yes, that seemed like something she'd do. Doubting her best friend, for being some idiotic country bumpkin. Becky was an awful lot cleverer than Raven gave her credit for.

Becky tried to think of all the places Raven might go, but she was pulling up a blank. Perhaps she should go to the mansion on Benson Hill first? She knew that's where that boy lived, there'd been gossip about him for awhile. Maybe there'd be some clues there? She crossed her fingers as she got dressed silently, wishing that she wasn't making any noise, that her parents wouldn't come upstairs at that moment to find her putting on a pair of jeans and a pink v-neck. She certainly hoped they wouldn't wake up when they heard the truck starting. Becky lived far out from the town, on the wrong side of the tracks. She couldn't get _anywhere _unless she used the truck. She quickly got dressed, and then followed Raven's suit, letting herself out the window, and creeping along the garage roof.

She jumped in her truck, praying that it wouldn't do its usual roaring-to-life engine thing. It didn't, oddly, so she quickly pulled it out of the garage, zooming off down the dirt track paths that ran all the way around her house. She was in town in less than a minute, outside the Benson Hill mansion in less than five. She quickly got out of her truck, finding the gates locked, but decided to try and climb over. After grazing her leg quite badly, and bruising her arm, she'd dropped herself over the other side and was running up towards the house. There was no point trying the front door—it would definitely be locked, so instead she went around to the side, finding the basement window open a jar. She managed to push it right open and wriggle herself through, thankful for once that she had no shape to speak of. If she had the glorious curves she desired, there'd be no way she'd have made it through that tiny slit. She fell to the floor, immediately heading for the stairs after surveying the pitch black basement with a quite peek. She hated the dark, she didn't want to wait down there for very long. When she got upstairs, she clicked on a light, and although it was dim, the colour a mottled yellow, it was better than nothing.

She didn't know where to look, instead pushing around the doors, looking for scraps of paper hurriedly stowed on tables. She reached the kitchen, and at last, found something that was near enough what she was looking for. There was a paper hurriedly folded, with the page just curled over a little at the new houses bit. She scanned that page quickly, realising at once that there was only one house that the spooky boy would want to live in.

A mansion, just like this one, over in Hipsterville. She felt her lips curve into a smile, a little thrill flipping through her. She'd found out where they were going, she was sure of it! They had to be going there. It was the only clue anywhere—and she was sure it was the perfect sort of place for them to live. Now, she'd just have to find some sort of way to go there and try to convince Raven to come home.

What Becky didn't realise, as the dark shadow came up behind her, silent as a swooping bat, was that she wasn't alone in her discoveries. An old enemy was back in town, and they certainly wasn't going to let Alexander Sterling slip out of their grasp.

"Why hello there," a Romanian accent whispered in Becky's ear, as a hand clutched at her throat, causing the ripping scream to die in her lips. "I had a feeling you'd help me out when I first saw you walk through that door. Perhaps we can work together . . ." Becky saw a glint of two flashing fangs, and knew in an instant that coming there had been helpful, but not entirely a very good idea . . .

* * *

**So there you have it! Review if you know what's good for you . . . (: x**


End file.
